He Made My Bed
by obaona
Summary: Obi-Wan and Siri on Tatooine, during Obi-Wan's exile. A vignette of their lives together - mushy romance, standalone and complete.


Title: **He Made My Bed**

Rating: G

A/N: Works with the Forbidden series (Forbidden, He Kissed My Ankle, and Falling Off the World) but stands alone.

Feedback: Why would you ever think I'm ashamed to beg? ;)

He made my bed.

In the very beginning, when I first came to Tatooine and we realized each had secretly loved the other, we had taken things slowly. After that beautiful night – when the glow of Obi-Wan's presence in the Force drew me to him in the middle of the desert with the stars shining down on us – we went to his home where I stayed ever since. I had brought little with me – I was a Jedi, after all, just as Obi-Wan. Possessions hindered a Jedi's ability to move anonymously and also prevented them from being able to move quietly and quickly in the execution of their duties – especially in these days.

When I found Obi-Wan on Anakin Skywalker's home world, it was a relief, because I could relax in the presence of someone I knew I could trust. I no longer needed to disguise what I was, because in the solitude of the deep desert, there were no bounty hunters. And years had passed since Anakin turned, the light of that Jedi burned away until there was nothing left but darkness that each of us carried. 

I think that when I came to him, here on Tatooine, Obi-Wan had begun to struggle with that darkness within himself. His spirit had been weary, and that made him guarded. We knew of our love for one another, but he wanted to take things slowly and surely – leaving no room for mistakes. He slept on a pallet in another room. He would only touch me in passing, a light kiss and a gentle caress. He was so cautious. 

Finally, I told him to stop. I put my ankle around his to trip him, forced him against the wall and kissed him, ignoring the roughness of his beard. At first, his mouth was slack with surprise, but soon enough, _that_ changed. After that, my bed became our bed. Even if he still tended to refer to it as mine, purely with the intent of irritating me, since he knew that his insistence I have my own bed – when we knew we loved each other, knew we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together – had annoyed me. He had been so careful not to pressure me, and being treated so delicately had never been something I cared for.  

_Our_ bed was a good bed. It was firm, but not too much so. It didn't have a headboard, and was set against the far wall opposite the doorway. The room wasn't large, and the bed took up most of the space. I had no idea where Obi-Wan had gotten the bed, though I knew he built the frame himself. It was serene looking with the cream colored sheets and blankets. It was set in a lovely room overlooking the hydroponic garden that he kept – a necessity in the brutal desert of Tatooine. The rock walls of Obi-Wan's home – carved carefully and thoroughly to be inconspicuous – gave it a very natural feel, especially combined with the cream colored sheets and blankets the bed had. 

Sometimes I think Obi-Wan is really quite strange. I never asked him to build that bed or that room, or to make it so extremely comfortable. For Force sake, we knew we loved each other, but he insisted on being . . . chivalrous and _courting_ me first. If Tatooine had flowers, I knew without a doubt I would have found them on my pillow. As it was, I found myself with amenities I knew Obi-Wan would never have bothered to give himself.

But that was just Obi-Wan. Rule-bound and reserved, even when he's breaking the rules! It makes me want to smack some sense into him, though I gave that up after the first few tries. I knew from experience that all that did was make him give me this little grin, like he knew something I didn't.

I suppose our life was idyllic, or as much as it could be. We had the normal chores of everyday life, of course – getting water, growing the food, making sure the condensation holders are working properly, and scaring the Tusken Raiders with 'tricks' occasionally for good measure. 

We loved each other, and we lived a married life. We knew each well, not only from our shared childhood, but also in adulthood through Jedi missions – and eventually we knew each other as human beings, in need of care and love.

But why in the universe did he make my bed? I stared down at the bed, the corners perfectly tucked and the cream blanket having nary a wrinkle. It sat alone in the room, our clothes being kept elsewhere in the small home.

I startled when hands encircled me from behind, the touch familiar but unexpected. "Obi-Wan," I yelped, first feeling startled, then relief, and then half-amused anger. The hands rested on my stomach and I felt a gentle kiss touch the curve of my jaw, his beard scratching my skin slightly.

I reached around and tried to smack his backside, willing to play this game with him. He dodged, and let go of me. I whirled around, laughing, to face him. He stood with his hands loosely at his sides, barefoot, wearing a rough tunic and old, stained pants that had probably been worn too long. 

"Obi-Wan," I said simply, shaking my head. I touched his bearded cheek, and he grinned. 

Like me, his hair was beginning to show the signs of his age, gray and white creeping in day by day. My own hair, once blond, was liberally dusted with white strands that blended with the rest. Neither of us was young – our limbs and joints ached occasionally, though the desert heat soothes that for the most part. We kept in shape, but we weren't as fast as we used to be in sparring, forced to rely on our skill with the Force more than our native speed and agility.

"What's with this playful mood?" I asked, smiling. He definitely kept his sense of humor, my Obi-Wan, but he didn't show it often. In some ways he was more reserved than he was when young, but in other ways he had relaxed, and let himself enjoy life. 

He stepped up close to me, running his fingers through my shoulder-length hair, his expression soft and loving. I put my hands on his chest, feeling the rough weave of his Jedi tunic. While one of his hands was in my hair, the other cupped my cheek. He kissed my forehead, and I giggled.

Yes, giggled. I, Siri Tachi, didn't giggle often, but it did happen. I couldn't hold up that rough, brash exterior all the time – and anyway, why would I want to, with Obi-Wan? I think these years on Tatooine had gentled me as much as they had Obi-Wan. 

His lips moved from my forehead to my eyebrows, across my eyes and down my cheekbone. They grazed my jaw line and then he finally moved to my lips, the touch completely familiar but wonderful all the same.

Then he drew away and grinned boyishly. "I made our bed," he said, lifting his eyebrows.

I stared at him for a moment, and then laughed. "And?"

"I thought we could mess it up so I could make it again," he said, a twinkle definitely in his eyes now. 

"Oh, I don't know . . . you're not one to _make_ work for yourself," I said, pretending to ponder the matter. Sometimes I wondered how we could act like such lovesick idiots after all these years. Maybe because it was fun?

"Siri," he said, shaking his head slightly with an amused admonishment. Then the look of restrained laughter faded from his face, to be replaced by something more serious, more intent. "It's been eight years, you know," he said softly, so close to me I could feel the heat of his breath. 

I nodded. "I know." I closed my eyes, and placed my cheek along his. "I've loved every moment, even the ones where you act like a –"

With a growl, he pushed me onto the bed and I laughed as I threw my head back. He leaned over me and kissed me again, deeply and possessively. I didn't dispute it – he was mine as much as I was his, at least in that moment. The future was uncertain, unknown. Luke was growing up, getting older and more curious about the universe. It would soon be time to train him.

I knew without a doubt, even though I did not – could not – know the details, that whatever the future held, it would be bright. The darkness of the Empire was fading, and rebellion was spreading. The light had waited, and now it was fighting back. 

I wrapped my arms around Obi-Wan's neck, looking into his blue eyes. He had been changed by these years on Tatooine, as had I. But I didn't regret the changes. And I certainly didn't regret doing what the Jedi had believed to be so wrong, but was so right –  to love. 

I sighed, content and happy. Obi-Wan cocked his head and looked at me questioningly, wondering at my thoughts, his Force presence gently entwining with mine. His thoughts brushed mine like a gentle breeze, offering himself.

I grinned at him. "Let's mess up the bed."

Fin.


End file.
